Out Of His Depth
by Caelia Pendragon
Summary: What if there was one thing that Merlin could not protect Arthur from? One danger that Merlin never saw coming... What if the greatest threat Arthur Pendragon faced was... himself?
1. Duty

**Out of His Depth**

What if there was one thing that Merlin could not protect Arthur from? One danger that Merlin never saw coming. What if the greatest threat Arthur Pendragon faced was himself?

**Disclaimer (applies to this chapter and all following ones):** I do not own Merlin, the characters or the settings therein! I promise you! If I did, Arthur would be less of an arse and at least once every episode there would be a scene with him topless... ;)

**Duty**

There are so many advantages to being a Prince. Every day he's reminded that he should be so grateful for the fortune that has visited him since birth. Every day he sees the deference people treat him with, the lowered eyes, the demands he can get away with that no-one else could, everyone's willingness to please. Every day it makes him feel sick.

There's sense that follows him as he goes about his everyday life (as everyday as it gets for a Prince anyway), a feeling that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It's the feeling of being watched. It's not so far from the ordinary, Arthur is well aware everyone gets paranoid every once in a while. But in his case, he knows it's something different. Everyone *is* watching him. They're all expecting something, but what really drives Arthur crazy is that they're all expecting something different . And although he'd die before admitting it even to himself, he knows that he can't please all of them.

His people want a fearless hero, his Knights want an infallible leader, his father wants a son who is ruthless just like him, Morgana expects humanity, the court wants a Prince who will maintain the peace... And then there's Merlin.

Merlin, who just looks at him with those unfathomable eyes that Arthur cannot read, no matter how hard he tries. That's why he feels so comfortable around the boy, he tells himself. Because his eyes make no demands, because he's always there when Arthur needs him, smiling that inane smile... Not because he's coming to look upon his manservant as a friend. It's not that at all.

It's all just a game really, he tries to lie to himself. Being a Prince is a lark! But even inside his own head the lies don't ring true. There's one word there, one word that echoes around and around his skulls, in an endless monotone that just won't let him _forget_... Duty, duty, duty, duty, duty. You have a duty, Arthur. Sometimes he wants to shout and shriek, rant and rave against _duty_. Against that whispering little voice that stirs up so many doubts...

It's his duty to obey his father and yet also to do the right thing. It's his duty to make sacrifices where necessary and yet always to put others before himself. It's his duty to try his bloody hardest every single bloody day and yet to make it look effortless. Duty, Arthur has decided, is his own personal curse. Sometimes he likes to defy duty. To make himself look an arse, to behave as if he's so obnoxious and rude and really just doesn't _care_ what anyone else thinks.

Really Arthur knows that's just about as far from the truth as it could get. He cares more than he ever wants anyone to know, but he has to put on the act, just in case. Just in case he can't be what everyone expects him to be. Just in case he fails. He has to prepare people, make them realise that their Prince/ son/leader/master may not be as perfect as they all seem to think he is. Because as much as Arthur knows his duty, he also knows that he is not strong enough to live with so many expectations bearing down on him. With all those pairs of eyes constantly boring into the back of his head and with all those hopes... all those foolish, fanciful, desperate hopes resting on his shoulders. And while the disappointment he occasionally sees in the eyes of others scars his soul, he feels a hope swelling along with the pain.

Maybe he won't shock them all that much after all. If he can't be the Prince that Camelot needs.

The half-empty wine bottle in front of him is starting to blur and he smirks a little. Another little minor rebellion against duty. Nobody likes to see their Prince drunk. Stumbling to his feet, Arthur tried to walk through the door but instead seemed to have to attempt three times to walk through the wall before he managed it. After finally succeeding on his fourth attempt he felt his smirk fade as he entered the empty hallway. No-one was there. There were no attendants to wait on their Prince, to witness his fall from grace. No serving maids, waiting to serve. No-one. Not even Merlin, he thinks with a hint of bitterness, the alcohol he had previously consumed repressing the memories of himself ordering Merlin to take a night off. Obviously, Arthur concluded, nobody else's idea of _duty_ was as strong as his own.

So why stay here? Why wait for someone in an empty corridor when no-one was there to wait for him? Inebriated though he was, Arthur's balance and pace were as steady and fast as ever as he headed for the nearest stairwell. When they wanted him, when there was some _duty_ someone wanted him to perform, Arthur thought, let them find him then. For it seemed that when duty was not calling, nobody called for Arthur.

Unfortunately for the Prince, the pull of the wine on his mind was so strong that when he forced open the small side door leading out onto the courtyard, he felt not the cold lash of rain or the howling wind, dulled as his mind was, and merely marched straight through the silent and empty courtyard and out into the heart of the storm.

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Merlin couldn't sleep. He pulled his woollen blanket slightly higher over himself, hearing the rain lashing against the stone walls of the castle and felt a pang of sympathy for any guards out keeping watch from the towers tonight. Rolling over, he shook his head slightly, trying to clear the lingering traces of worry from it. Doubtless that was what was keeping him from sleep. Worrying about that damn Arthur. What was there to worry about anyway? Arthur had practically ordered him to take a night off, after working him to a frazzle for the past four days solid. And now, on his one night off, here was Merlin worrying about the very man who had worked him into such a state of near exhaustion!

His subconscious, Merlin decided, did not play fair. With a resigned sigh of defeat, Merlin kicked off his blankets. It was quite obvious that he was not going to get any sleep until he checked on the cause of his anxiety. And wouldn't it be just his luck, Merlin thought grimly, if that very cause was still awake and chose to laugh at him for the _next_ four days for his folly.

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With his candle burning low, Merlin approached Arthur's chamber door with caution. From the moment he had sneaked out of Gauis' quarters he had been berating himself for his sheer stupidity and had at several points almost turned around and gone back to bed, but something, some feeling deeper than he could reasonably explain, had made him go on. And now, approaching Arthur's chambers and seeing the door slightly ajar, the first real pangs of worry were kicking in.

"Arthur?" he called out his friend's name softly, just in case the other boy had fallen asleep by the fire, having been too exhausted to make it to his bed (Merlin had known that to be the case on several occasions after a particular hard day's training. He had always snuffed out the fire and helped Arthur into bed, knowing that for anyone else to have seen the Prince asleep before the fire would have been highly damaging to Arthur's temperamental ego). Pushing lightly at the door Merlin felt the previous pangs of worry evolve into full-blown, painful stomach contractions. Arthur's chair was empty. Even worse was what Merlin could see sitting on the table beside the dreadfully empty chair. Merlin well knew the Prince's intolerance for wine, after all he was the one who had had to haul Arthur back to his chamber after one particularly merry night, involving Uther's decision that Arthur had reached an age at which it was acceptable for him to drink.

Picking up the ominously half-empty wine bottle, Merlin felt terror shooting through him.

"Arthur, what have you done now?!" He whispered aloud to the empty room.

**End Part One**


	2. Destiny

**Destiny**

Gaius awoke to the noise of a door being slammed. Somewhat startled he bolted upright.

"Merlin?" He questioned wildly, the name of the boy he had so quickly come to think of as a son springing first to his lips. There was a loud clatter and a muffled curse and Gaius felt his confusion ebb somewhat. It was definitely Merlin then.

"Merlin, what on earth are you doing running around the castle at this time of night?" The court physician put more venom than he had intended into the words, but then, he thought on reflection, he was not a happy man. After all he had just been rudely awoken at who knew what time of the night by a young man who so far had given no justification for such an awakening. Gaius felt that he had every right to be annoyed. There was still no response and Gaius was just sucking in enough breath to give Merlin a thorough telling-off when he felt a sudden pressure on the edge of his bed as the boy sat down and Merlin's rushed words left his anger deflated and a sneaking worry beginning to take the place of his rage.

"Please Gaius! I don't know what to do! Arthur's missing! And he's had wine – you know what he's like with wine! Where could he have gone? And what's he doing going anywhere at this time of night? And-" Gaius cut off Merlin's tirade by raising one exasperated hand.

"Slow down, Merlin! From all that I managed to gather that Arthur has gone missing and is probably drunk also, am I correct?" Merlin nodded frantically, visibly restraining himself from saying anything more to give the older man time to process the information. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone? I assume you checked his chambers thoroughly," Merlin had the grace to look slightly sheepish.

"Not quite thoroughly, no... But he wouldn't have been in there Gaius, the way everything was laid out it was obvious that he'd just got up and left in a hurry! But I did check with the guard in the northern tower and he said..." here Merlin hesistated almost as if he was afraid that saying the bad news he had to bear might somehow make it more true, and put Arthur in even greater peril. "He said he saw a figure leaving the castle by a side door, not two hours ago. He called out but they didn't respond and they disappeared in the direction of the forest." Merlin's face was creased with worry.

"What does he think he's doing, Gaius?! He's never normally so reckless!" Gaius frowned in sympathy.

"If he's had as much to drink as you fear, Merlin, then he may not be thinking about what he's doing at all. But, the guard you spoke to, was he certain that it was Arthur he saw leaving the castle?" Merlin shook his head,

"No, he just said he saw a figure, he would guess to be male. But who else could it be, Gaius? Arthur is missing and the forest is one of his favourite places, I know he goes there to think a lot."

Gaius shook his head.

"Merlin, right now we know nothing for certain. Arthur could be safe and sound within the castle walls somewhere, sleeping that wine off as we speak. You can't just go tearing off into the woods on some hunch..." Merlin leapt to his feet, outrage shining in the depths of his blue eyes.

"No, Gaius! This is no hunch! I know Arthur is out there! The connection, the one that the great dragon is always going on about, well now I know what he means! Arthur is in danger! I know it!" Gaius looked pained.

"And I believe you Merlin, but the rest of the castle won't! They'll have to search the whole castle before they'll even entertain the idea that Arthur might be outside it." Merlin whirled to face Gaius, his face a mask of horror.

"But... but that'll take ages! Arthur could have frozen to death by then! Have you seen the storm out there?" Gaius swallowed and tried to think of a best-case scenario. Little came to mind.

"I can't deny that the situation is serious, Merlin. But think logically! They have to eliminate all other possibilities before they can launch an all-out search!" Merlin whirled again, this time ending up facing his room.

"Well, then I can't wait for them. I'll have to find Arthur on my own!" Gaius struggled out of bed.

"Merlin!" He chided, annoyance and concern leaking through in his voice, "That storm is furious! You'll barely be able to see where you're going, let alone see any trail that Arthur might have made! At least wait until the morning, when it will be light!" Merlin, however, was already in his room, throwing things into his bag.

"Arthur may not have that long! I can't afford to wait. How am I supposed to protect him if I'm just sitting here?" Gaius threw up his hands in defeat. Despite the worry that was twisting his insides into knots, he knew that nothing would dissuade Merlin once his mind was made up, especially where Arthur was concerned.

"Very well then! If you insist on following through with this folly, I intend to make sure that you at least go prepared!" So saying Gaius marched over to Merlin and took over the packing his bag. "Put on as many woollen clothes as you can find," he instructed the younger man, "they absorb less water and dry faster. I'm putting a woollen jumper and a blanket in here for Arthur, when you find him."

Merlin felt a sudden rush of warmth for the older man, who, despite being so dead-set against Merlin going out on his own, had still said 'when' and not 'if' he found Arthur. But Gauis was continuing on with instructions so Merlin snapped out of his appreciative haze to pay full attention.

"...and get him out of as many of his wet clothes as you can, putting on the dry woollen ones instead. Don't worry too much about him shivering, unless it gets really violent, but... Listen to me now, Merlin, this is important. If he stops shivering and stops really responding to you... Get him back to me as fast as you can. Do you understand?" Merlin nodded obligingly, but curiosity forced him to enquire further.

"But surely it would be a good thing if Arthur stopped shivering?" Gaius turned to Merlin, a deadly serious expression making his features seem incredibly severe.

"It would indeed be a good thing if Arthur stopped shivering, having been dressed in warm, dry clothes and indoors for a significant period of time, but if he stops shivering before that..." the ominous pause that Gaius left was enough to get through to Merlin the severity of the physician's warning. "Just get him back here, Merlin, and let me worry about that." Gaius finished with a strained smile that did nothing to alleviate Merlin's growing feeling of terror. He nodded determinedly nonetheless. He would *not* fail Arthur.

"I understand." He forced out, meeting the older man's gaze with a resolute expression in his eyes. Gaius nodded and smiled slightly, though this time the expression looked slightly less strained.

"Don't worry, Merlin," he added gently, easily reading the fear in the young boy's eyes. "You'll save Arthur. It is your destiny."

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Arthur stumbled onwards, the alcohol running through his veins making him completely oblivious to the bitter cold. Some part of his mind wondered vaguely why it was getting so hard to keep going, but that part was easily masked by the larger part that just kept telling him to continue walking, to where he had no idea, but he followed compliantly. Wherever he was going it was *away* from the castle and that was fine by him.

But as time went on his feet began to drag more and more and, as the effect of the wine on his mind began to lessen, so he increasingly felt the harsh chill of the weather. He had been walking for what felt like an interminable amount of time, before he noticed he was shivering. A very belated sense of self-preservation kicked in and Arthur whirled, as fast as he was able, back to face the way he had just come. Whether it was the alcohol, or the cold, or just plain tiredness that meant his vision was so impaired Arthur had no clue, but whatever the reason, his view of the landscape around him was a blurred, constantly shifting mess, making Arthur certain that there was absolutely no way he could make it back to the castle unaided.

He felt something like panic stir inside him, but he ruthlessly forced it down. No Prince of Camelot, no, he corrected himself, no son of Uther could afford to show fear. If he couldn't make it back right now then he'd just have to find somewhere to sit and either wait out the storm or wait until his vision repaired itself. Barely noticing the shaking in every limb, Arthur had scarcely made it to the nearest tree before his trembling legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto the cold, rain-soaked forest floor.

**End Part Two**


	3. Dread

**Dread**

There was something, some feeling coiling in the pit of Merlin's stomach. It felt almost like he imagined a black hole would feel – empty and void but at the same time filled with a sense of inexorable dread, as if you knew that something was about to come along and fill that void, and it was not going to be good. That was how Merlin felt right at that moment, as if he was on the cusp of receiving some really bad news. He hadn't heard it yet, but he knew it was coming... And waiting was the worst part.

Walking out into the snow, Merlin was desperate, searching everywhere for some clue that this was indeed the path Arthur had trod. But beyond the guidance the guard was able to give him, that he had seen somebody travelling north, there were no visible signs that the Prince had been this way at all. Forcing back his panic, Merlin trudged on through the driving rain, grateful, not for the first time, that Gaius had forced him to don woollen garments. Just how far would he have to go, however, before he could extend that same favour to Arthur?

He clutched the bag slung over his shoulder slightly closer to him, and bent his head so that his eyes were shielded even more from the onslaught of the rain. Staring forcefully at the ground Merlin willed it to conjure up some clue of where Arthur might be hiding...

And then it hit him. Of course, why hadn't he thought of it sooner? If the ground couldn't conjure up any clues, then maybe magic could! Seizing upon the first thing that caught his eye, Merlin snatched up a grey pebble from the path directly ahead of him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the hum of magic he could feel all around willing himself to get it right, first time. This was it... Now or never! Life or death... The magic had to work! It was the last idea Merlin had left...

Suddenly there was a violent rush of air around the young warlock, as if a flight of birds had swarmed around the boy, all beating their wings furiously. Merlin felt the wind hit him, but rush around him, passing him by, almost as if he himself were flying. And then suddenly in the midst of that singular sensation, words sprung unbidden into his head. Merlin knew instinctively, without having to be told, that these were the words he had been looking for, the words that he needed... Without a moment's hesistation, Merlin spoke those words, casting his spell out into the storm before him.

"_**Crai ffeindio Arthur!**_"

The words poured out from his mouth and as soon as they were spoken, Merlin felt as if some great power had left him along with them, folding itself into and around the shape of the small, non-descript pebble that Merlin had almost forgotten he was holding. For a split second the pebble glowed a bright and brilliant blue, and Merlin watched, entranced, as the colour slowly faded and the pebble sat in his palm – looking just like an ordinary pebble once more.

Merlin was grinning from ear to ear, even cold and dripping with rain as he was. Had the situation been less serious, he would have laughed out loud. The magic had worked! Just like that! For the moment, the young warlock ignored the fact that he had no idea what spell he had just cast or what he was supposed to do next. Whatever it was, he had done it! Surely now, he would be able to find Arthur! He stared at the pebble expectantly. It just sat innocently in the palm of his hand, silent and immobile. Merlin's smile began to fade slightly. What now? He reached out one finger and carefully poked the pebble. It moved slightly, but still did nothing. It certainly wasn't glowing anymore.

Merlin's feeling of euphoria was rapidly being replaced by a sense of frustration. The magic had worked! What spell had been cast? What kind of useless magic had he invoked anyway? Just how was a glowing pebble supposed to help him find Arthur?! A sudden burst of rage, fuelled by inwardly-directed fury and a deep-rooted sense of desperation, gave his arm a spurt of strength and pulling back, he launched the pebble out into the night before him.

"What use are you?" He cried into the darkness. "I'll never find Arthur!" As soon as the Prince's name crossed his lips, the response was instantaneous. A brilliant blue light cut through the night, half-blinding the young manservant who had not been expecting it whatsoever. Crouching slightly with his arm drawn protectively over his eyes and squinting, Merlin was able to make out the source of the glow... A small, round source not too far ahead on the path before him... running forward Merlin scooped up the pebble once more. To his dismay he saw that the glow was once again beginning to fade. But now he had an idea of how to make it work.

"Find Arthur!" he whispered to the pebble and once again the glow sprang back to life and now that he was holding the pebble securely in his hands Merlin found that the glow wasn't blinding at all... Quite the opposite in fact – the glow now seemed to be channelled into a single ray of blue light pointing somewhere ahead, in the direction.

"Is Arthur somewhere down there?" Merlin whispered. On the word 'Arthur' the glow intensified once more and the line of light seemed to become even more solid, cutting the dark night ahead of Merlin almost in two. That was all the encouragement Merlin needed so, hitching his bag closer once more, Merlin strode off in the direction of the fading ray of light...

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If it was possible, Merlin was sure that the light emanating from the pebble he clutched so tightly was getting ever brighter and brighter. He hoped somewhat desperately that meant that he was getting closer to the Prince. He dreaded to think how long Arthur had now been exposed to the brutal elements and if he was not completely coherent and had not thought to seek shelter... Merlin cut off his train of thought before he could reach its conclusion. That was something he would not consider until he was faced with it. As it was, he could only hope for the best and pray that for once, Arthur had met with some form of good luck, or at least common sense... _I'll be lucky_, Merlin thought, his sense of humour momentarily turning black. _Since when have the words 'Arthur' and 'luck' ever gone together?_

A sudden burst of light suddenly had Merlin's entire concentration. Had he arrived? Did that mean he had finally found Arthur?! His unspoken question was answered seconds later when he heard what sounded like a bitten-off moan from what he had assumed to be a overgrown log some few feet ahead...

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Arthur's mind was feeling very fuzzy... he tried to sort through the hazy jumble of his thoughts but to no avail. Every time he felt as if he might be getting close to remembering something important, it just slipped away, leaving Arthur feeling cheated for a reason that he couldn't explain...

There was something coming closer... Some kind of bright light, so bright that it seemed to burn right through the retinas of Arthur's half-open eyes... Closing them completely a moan rose up unbidden from his throat, but he ruthlessly bit the sound off. _Princes do not *moan*_. Probably because his head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton-wool, Arthur found it easy to ignore the little voice that told him that last remark sounded very much like his father...

But that damned light was getting closer and, lacking the strength to order it to go away, Arthur merely tried to turn his head so that his eyes were once again in darkness. He blearily heard a voice calling out his name and felt hands shaking his shoulders. But the rocking motion that induced made his head spin even more dizzily than before and Arthur fell gladly into the black abyss that rose up to swallow him...

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"Arthur!" Merlin cried, joy and worry mixing in equal parts in his tone. Hastily he threw aside the pebble, which, having performed its purpose, had returned to its former dull grey colour – an ordinary pebble once more. He gained the prince's side in seconds and began to roll him over from side, which was completely soaked in water and covered in mud, explaining his previous assumption that he had been a log. "Arthur!" he called out again, slightly alarmed that the prince didn't seem to be responding. Reaching for Arthur's shoulders, he gave the other boy a slight shake, "Arthur, it's me, Merlin! Can you hear me?" The only response he received was the briefest of glances from Arthur before the other boy's eyes rolled back into his head and he became completely limp in Merlin's grasp.

Merlin's stomach did a loop-the-loop. This was bad. This was really, really bad. Arthur was soaked to this skin, he had been out here, lying in this clearing, completely exposed, for who knows how long, and to make matters worse he was now unconscious! And he hadn't seemed that coherent even *before* he passed out. Merlin found himself wishing, not for the first time that night, that Gaius could have come with him to find Arthur. He would have given anything right then for the comforting pressure of the older man's hand on his shoulder and to have been able to hand the insensible young prince over to another... But Merlin shook his head, clearing his mind of all such thoughts. Gaius was not there. And Arthur would never make it to see the physician if Merlin did not take him there himself. For now, Arthur was Merlin's responsibility and his alone!

Feeling suitably chastised and, if not directly calmer, at least better disposed to push back the panic and focus on the situation at hand, Merlin turned to look down at the prince whose entire body weight he was currently supporting. His previous panicked assessment seemed to be right on one count at least. Arthur did not look good at all and, now that Merlin's initial panic had receded somewhat, he noticed that Arthur was shivering quite badly. Mentally thanking Gaius for his forethought, Merlin carefully lowered Arthur back onto the ground once more and began rooting around in his bag for the woollen garments he had brought. Fortunately the bag in which he had carried them had taken the worst the weather had to offer and the jumper inside was still relatively dry.

The young manservant made quick work of stripping Arthur of the worst of his wet upper garments and hastily pulled the warm and dry woollen jumper over his master's head, relieved to see that his shivering instantly began to ease somewhat. With that accomplished, Merlin thrust the wet garments back into the bag he had brought and began to focus on the next task at hand. Merlin was not the strongest of all men, and certainly would need Arthur to support some of his own weight on the long and arduous journey back to the castle. Therefore, in order for that to be possible, the Prince was going to have to be awake. Merlin stared down at Arthur's tightly shut eyes. He had not the first idea how to go about waking him up. The only technique he was familiar with involved dousing somebody with water, but, here Merlin spared a contemptuous glance for the rain still pelting the prince and himself, with Arthur already being soaked that didn't seem to be a viable option. So how else to wake him?

After some thought, Merlin remembered something else that Gaius had given him, a small vial of some herbal remedy or another, he couldn't really remember what Gaius had said it was for, but the smell... Merlin wrinkled his nose even at the memory. Now that was something he wasn't going to forget in a hurry. Unfortunately had been rather preoccupied with panicking over Arthur's safety at the time so his concentration had not been absolute, but he was sure he remembered stuffing it into the recesses of one of his pockets... Merlin was more grateful than words could reasonably express when he found the vial at the very top of the first pocket he searched. Once again mentally thanking Gaius he unscrewed the top of the vial and scrunching up his own nose slightly from the vile stench, he held the container directly under Arthur's nostrils.

Almost immediately Arthur's head moved as, even in unconsciousness he fought to escape from the hideous odour. But Merlin merely moved the vial once more, trapping Arthur's head with his arm as he did so, eliminating any opportunity the prince might have had of escaping from the stench. A groan alerted Merlin that Arthur was finally starting to come around.

"Merlin...?" The Prince's voice was so weak and confused and utterly unlike Arthur that for a second all of Merlin's carefully repressed panic came flooding back. Forcing it back down with some difficulty Merlin managed to reply to his master and friend,

"Yes, Arthur, it's me. How do you feel?" Merlin voice felt tight and his gut twisted as he waited for Arthur's response. The Prince made a slightly muffled noise that Merlin interpreted as a weaker version of his usual irritated grunt.

"Like I just sparred for two days solid with a dragon for a sparring partner... What happened?" Merlin grinned. If Arthur was feeling up to making witty comments then he surely couldn't be faring as badly as he seemed.

"You decided to drink half a bottle of wine and then run away from the castle in the middle of a storm." Arthur frowned in confusion.

"I did?" Merlin nodded and continued,

"So I had to come out here and drag you back before you died of exposure." From his position kneeling beside the Prince, half-supporting him, Merlin felt Arthur bristle at his words.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin." Arthur said as sharply as his currently rather weak voice would allow, " I wouldn't have died, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself." The coughing fit at the end of his sentence didn't do much to help his cause and Merlin merely rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, of course you are! That's why I found you unconscious in the middle of the forest, soaked to the skin, unable to move..." One look from Arthur silenced Merlin completely.

"You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand?" Merlin nodded, barely hiding the small smile that played across his features.

"Yes, my Lord," The Prince seemed sated by Merlin's acquiescence and nodded in a dignified manner that was completely at odds with his current position, being supported completely by the other man and covered in mud from head to toe. It was very nearly enough to set Merlin off laughing, but he managed to restrain himself just barely, wishing to preserve what little was left of the Prince's now sorely injured ego.

"Merlin?" That single word from the Prince brought Merlin out of his reverie, and he snapped back to attention.

"Hmm? What is it, Arthur?" His gaze transferred to the Prince as he waited patiently for his response.

"It just got warmer... Didn't it? I feel warmer..." Merlin's gaze on the Prince intensified and his brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced up at the sky above them. The stars were still completely obscured by the pelting rain and the wind was howling just as much as before. Merlin certainly didn't feel any warmer. So why did Arthur? Merlin reached out one hand to rest it against the Prince's forehead, as he had expected it was cold to the touch. Frowning, Arthur reached up one hand to bat Merlin's away, his frown deepening as it took him two attempts to get his co-ordination right.

A sudden memory struck him and Merlin felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach. He remembered something, something Gaius had said that he'd only been half paying attention to at the time... What he would give to go back in time and listen to him now!

The physician had said something about feeling warmer... and entering stage two. And, Merlin thought with a sudden surge of dread, he was willing to bet his right arm that that was not a good thing...

**End Part Three**

**A/N: Okay, basically I know what wrong with Arthur but I'm not revealing it in the plot yet (some of you can probably guess it tho ;D). I have researched the symptoms on Wikipedia and I'm trying to stay as faithful to them as possible, but that does mean that I may occasionally use some modern medical terms or treatments that obviously would not have been known in the 6****th**** century... And while I realise that the TV series is not exactly a strict stickler for historical accuracy, I apologise anyway! Hope you enjoy and all reviews are very much appreciated! :D**


	4. Denial

**Denial**

Despite feeling as though the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach, Merlin forced his lips into a smile.

"Warmer? It's colder than the Arctic circle out here, so trust your Royal Stubborn-ness to insist that it's getting warmer," Merlin's weak attempt at humour had the desired effect of earning him a death-glare from Arthur and distracting the Prince from thinking too much about the situation in which they now found themselves. That is, stranded in the forest in the middle of a storm, with one member of the party looking pretty incapable of walking or even _standing_ right now.

Merlin swallowed the panic that was once again rising inside him and forced himself to think calmly about the situation. First things first, could Arthur actually stand? Shifting his position slightly so that he was crouched just to one side of the Prince rather than directly behind, he spoke to the other boy jovially, trying desperately not to let any of his worry filter into his voice and alarm the Prince.

"Well, I think we've been enjoying this lovely weather for long enough, now. Time to head back to the castle, I think," Arthur just looked at him groggily, his piercing blue eyes no longer alert but vacant and dull. Merlin swallowed back the wave of helplessness that threatened to engulf him. That was not the response he had been hoping for.

"Right then!" Deliberately injecting more optimism into his voice than he felt, Merlin bent over and with some effort managed to loop Arthur's arm around his shoulders. Heaving upwards with all his strength he managed to haul both himself and Arthur into an upright position. Arthur swayed violently, leaving Merlin with no doubt whatsoever that if he had not been there to support the Prince, he would have been back on the floor again almost immediately.

"Come on, Arthur," he said, still trying to make his voice sound jovial, but on this occasion he was utterly unable to help a note of fear creeping in. Merlin was terrified – not for himself but for his friend. He felt so helpless, what could he do? Arthur might be dying and right now it was all he could do to hold his friend upright!

The note of fear in Merlin's voice cut through the fog in Arthur's brain. Swinging his head sluggishly, he managed to turn to face in Merlin's direction and saw straight through his bravado. He was still confused, he no longer understood why he or Merlin were here, why he couldn't seem to get his balance, or why Merlin couldn't just take him back to his chamber already, but he now understood at least one fact about his current situation. Merlin was scared, and seemed to be trying to make Arthur walk somewhere. Despite his almost constant statements to the contrary, if he was truly honest, Arthur knew that Merlin was no coward. Therefore if Merlin was scared, then there was good reason to be. The last thing Arthur wanted to do was walk. He was tired – so tired, all he wanted to do was to crawl somewhere dark and sleep, but Merlin's terror had reached the last coherent part of his brain. Facing his friend therefore he mustered all of his remaining strength and coherency and reached out to the younger boy.

"It will be alright, Merlin," he muttered, clasping Merlin's shoulder in a firm grip. "Let's go," taking one unsteady step forward as he spoke, Arthur began to walk, feeling that this was what Merlin wanted. Merlin let out his breath in a gasp, infinitely grateful that somehow Arthur seemed to understand the situation. Now that Arthur was moving mostly under his own steam, Merlin's terror subsided somewhat and he felt that he could guide the Prince back with relative ease. Yes, he had lost the pebble that had brought him here, but it had served its purpose and, even in spite of the driving rain, Merlin could still make out the spires of the castle in the distance. Careful to keep the Prince's arm wrapped firmly about his shoulders, to compensate for his occasional stumbles, Merlin struck out in the direction of the castle, determined not to give up or slow down until the Prince was safely delivered into Gaius' care.

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The progress was slow. Despite Arthur's determination to keep walking, his strength was failing him and he was stumbling more and more often. Merlin kept going, half-dragging the Prince along with him, but he too was tiring rapidly. Despite the fact that they walked at a constant speed, the castle never seemed to get any closer, in fact, to Merlin's eyes, that were sore from straining to see the castle through the veil of rain, it seemed to be getting even further away.

"Not far now," he said, making his voice sound more encouraging than he felt, and hefting Arthur's arm a little further around his shoulders, slightly readjusting his grip on the Prince. It had been a long time now since Arthur had in any way acknowledged Merlin's presence, other than mutely leaning on the other boy and doggedly placing one foot in front of another. Merlin was trying very hard not to dwell on Arthur's condition. He knew it did not look good. He could feel Arthur shivering violently against him with every step, the warm, dry clothing with which he had initially replaced the Prince's tunic was now thoroughly sodden and Arthur's skin was freezing cold to the touch. If he looked too closely, even in the darkness of the night, he could see that Arthur's lips and ears, and even the fingers of the hand that Merlin had wrapped around his shoulder were starting to turn blue. So Merlin tried not to look, and he tried not to think about anything except getting Arthur back into the warmth of the castle.

Multiple scenarios had entered his head – could he conjure a fire? Could he conjure a shelter for them both to wait out the storm and return to the castle by daylight? Could he even just conjure the magic to keep them warm and dry until Arthur's absence was noticed and the alarm was raised? Despite his natural optimism, even Merlin had to admit that the situation was dire. Any fire that he conjured would be just as badly affected by the rain and damp earth as an ordinary fire and the magic required to make a shelter out of thin air would have drained him at the best of times. Just now, frozen and exhausted as he was, what if the energy it took drained him completely? What good would a shelter and a fire do if both he and Arthur were insensible and unable to reach it? Shaking off these dark thoughts he concentrated on the task before him. He was destined to save Arthur. And if the Prince had ever needed saving before, he certainly needed saving now. Perhaps, more than the magic he wielded, more than the important wizard he was fated to become, it was Merlin, the boy himself, who was needed to rescue this important Prince. And if all that Merlin could do at that moment, for all his magical powers, was just keep moving, then that would have to be enough.

"Let me go!" Merlin was pulled out of his reverie by a shout and Arthur suddenly began to struggle violently in his grip. Turning, Merlin tried to clasp the Prince by his shoulders and make him look into his eyes, but Arthur only struggled more wildly the more Merlin tried to restrain him.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Merlin cried, letting go of his friend and stumbling back a step from the force of the Prince's struggles.

"Expectations!" cried Arthur, his voice frantic, "You, them everyone! Always thinking, always expecting... It's too heavy!" On his last statement his voice, sounding more frantic than ever, he began tugging desperately at the woollen tunic he was wearing, trying to pull it off over his head, "Heavy, heavy, heavy," he chanted, "Can't carry it anymore!"

Merlin flew back to Arthur's side, his hands covering the Prince's and stilling their frantic, jerking motions.

"Arthur, stop it!" he yelled, feeling frantic himself. If Arthur managed to wriggle himself out of the jumper he'd only keep getting colder, faster! "What are you doing? You need to stay warm," he entreated his friend, trying to vain to get Arthur to make eye contact, but the Prince's gaze just slid past his, vague and unfocused.

"It's too heavy," Arthur repeated, his voice softer now, and his tone slightly calmer. He sounded vaguely confused as if even he didn't understand what it was that was suddenly too heavy. "Please don't make me carry it any further. I want to stop now," Merlin's heart literally ached for his friend. His tone was so lost and childlike, it was clear that any understanding Arthur had possessed of their situation was well and truly gone now.

"No, Arthur," He said gently, not moving his hands from on top of his friend's which were still, in a jerky and unco-ordinated way, trying to prise off the soaking wet jumper that, in many places, was stuck to his skin. "We have to keep going. We're close to the castle now, and you'll be safe there. We just need to get back,"

"Please, Father," Arthur's voice was even softer and more lost-sounding than before and, as Merlin's mind registered the shock of being referred to as the King by his friend, his grip involuntarily loosened slightly, and Arthur slid down, landing on his knees on the muddy track. Merlin instantly dived beside his friend, attempting to pull him back from where he had fallen – being in contact with the cold, wet and muddy ground was going to do the Prince no favours. "Please," Arthur continued, his voice so soft that Merlin had to strain to hear him above the sounds of the storm all around them, "You expect so much of me, but I can't... I can't..." Arthur's speech was becoming more and more incoherent, as his mind stumbled over the words just as his feet had so recently stumbled over the ground.

"Arthur," Merlin knelt on the ground in front of his friend, caring nothing for the cold, wet sensation of the water soaking through his trousers, making them even wetter than they had been previously. "It's me, Merlin, remember? Your idiot of a manservant? You can do this, Arthur! You're the bravest man I've ever met! If anyone can do this, it's you! Besides that, you've got a destiny that I've promised to make sure comes true... So no giving up, okay?"

There was no response from the Prince. His eyes, formerly so vague and unfocused, had finally closed in unconsciousness and his head was lolling back on Merlin's arm, the rest of his body trailing limply in the muddy road. "Arthur!" Merlin's shout rang out above the raging of the storm. "No! Arthur, please! Wake up!" Shaking his friend had no effect, save to set the Prince's head rolling limply from side to side. All hope, and energy gone, Merlin collapsed to the floor beside his friend. "I was meant to save you..." he muttered, seeing stars dance before his vision as the sheer raw determination that had kept him moving all these hours finally gave out. As the ground came up to swallow him he was vaguely aware of the Prince's body slumping on top of his own. Summoning the last of his wits, Merlin extended a shaking hand, '_Darian!' _he cried. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was raindrops bouncing off the silvery, all too flimsy, shield he had created in a last ditch effort to protect his friend. He couldn't help thinking as the darkness claimed him, too little, too late...

**End Part Four**

**A/N: I can only apologise for the long delay in my continuing with this story. It is only thanks to my wonderful reviewers that I have returned to this story at all – so I give thanks to each and every one of you! I hope that the latest instalment was not a disappointment and I hope to upload the next part soon **


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